


ephemeral

by demios



Category: End Roll (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 09:23:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8440165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demios/pseuds/demios
Summary: Kantera and Dogma have a chat over tea.





	

**Author's Note:**

> my half of a fic trade with alex; they asked for kantera/dogma tea date like 800 years ago. ;orz i forgot how to write fluff but i tried! also, i took some liberties with the draken species because, well, i eat up nonhuman traits.

Dogma’s appearance in the village tends to be a rare one. The priest did spend a fair amount of time in other towns performing work, but often, it was quite the contrary. He was confined to the church, some of the citizens only seeing him once a week for mass. Most expressed a muted sense of awe when they saw Dogma out and about, much like how one would revere the sight of an elusive animal. For Kantera, it was a pleasant surprise to spot him during the route of his daily stroll. A rare sighting, indeed. It was one that made his wings involuntarily unfurl and flap from joy.

Despite his infamously lethargic disposition, Kantera was not one to let a good thing go to waste when it was placed before him. That was how he eventually coaxed the other into sharing a cup of tea, if for a moment. Business was usually slow on most days, so there was no harm in taking break for tea. Deliveryuu would also be minding the front, so he was free to engage in mindless conversation, no matter how much Dogma insisted he was infringing on valuable time. The time he spent with the other was far more valuable to him than a few herb sales, he assured him. (And no, he definitely didn’t miss the way Dogma went red at the remark.)

The fragrance of jasmine diffuses throughout the back room of the shop, a sign that the tea is ready. Kantera retrieves the pot from the stove and pours out two cups of tea. The doctor then returns with one in each hand, placing one in front of Dogma then taking one for himself. A comfortable silence settles between them as they indulge in the first sip, letting the much-needed warmth radiate through their bodies. To have Dogma here is a miraculous occurrence given both of their regular schedules. Kantera makes sure to savor it deeply. He doesn’t vary blends often, but familiar flavors always taste better with company, in his opinion.

The priest makes a satisfied hum after pulling the cup away from his lips, setting it on the table. “Exquisite, as usual. I thank you for the drink.”

“It’s my pleasure.” To see Dogma relaxed is a treat in itself.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been able to unwind like this.” The priest admits with a sigh, the tension noticeably fading as his shoulders drop.

Kantera cocks his head to one side in concern. “Is that so? Have you been faring well, Dogma?”

“Yes, my asthma hasn’t recurred for a while now.”

“Ah, that’s good, but… I’m asking not only as your doctor, but your significant other as well. I feel as if I’ve been seeing less of you. Is everything alright?”

The priest fidgets. “My apologies… I’ve been trying to maintain the church in preparation for the cold weather. I’m in possession of only one space heater; I’ve never been a fan of using only candles to warm the rest, so I worry something will catch fire.” Dogma grimaces at the thought, face contorting in momentary concentration. Kantera thinks it a bit amusing as he watches the other’s lips fix into the pout he is so fond of wearing.

“Oho, thinking that far ahead already?”

“It’s only expected I do so. And what of you?”

“The shop’s plenty warm, or else the herbs wouldn’t be able to be preserved correctly.” It was maintained well enough through the seasons, the combined efforts of Deliveryuu and himself creating a suitable environment for the medicines. “You’re welcome to visit anytime, or stay the night, if you’d like.”

“That’s… very generous of you.”

“Think nothing of it. Ah, you could give me another of your history lessons while you’re here, too.” He is always delighted to hear Dogma’s lectures.

But Dogma gives him a sharp look in response. “Wouldn’t you fall asleep again?”

Kantera is unfazed by the remark. “That’s because you’ve a lovely voice. It’s only natural to be soothed by the voice of the one you hold dear.”

“…I wish you weren’t so skilled at framing your bad habits in this manner; I’ll have you know I’ll not overlook them easily.” Dogma finishes with a huff, taking another sip from his cup.

Caught again. “So vigilant… I was simply being truthful.”

Idle chatter fills the room, Kantera realizing his back room hasn’t been this lively in quite some time. He’s found few can stand for a lengthy cup of tea, the youngsters in this village always quite energetic in their endeavors. Saxon is near the only one who enjoys this type of conversation, content to spend entire afternoons talking about anything that comes to mind. It was by mere chance he found Dogma to share the same appreciation for long bouts of chatter. Since then, he’s made a point to drag the other in for tea when he could.

“Mayhap we should spare a visit to Dragon’s Peak someday. We could stay at that quaint inn with wonderful hospitality.” The couple was a bit… unorthodox, yes, but trustworthy regardless.

Dogma gives him a slightly incredulous look. “Just the two of us? That sounds a little…” _Scandalous_ , but the word fails to breach the air.

While he’s grasping for a less blunt term, Kantera finishes for him. “Like a honeymoon, no?”

The doctor watches Dogma’s brow furrow. “Kantera, to do such things…”

“Oh my…” Kantera’s sleeve covers his mouth in mock surprise. “Those ‘ _things_ ’ you speak of… have you the intent to seduce me, Dogma?”

Even in the room dimly lit by paper lanterns, a terrific shade of scarlet travels up Dogma’s neck in a matter of moments. “N-no, of course not.” He clears his throat and amends the statement after regaining some of his composure. “Not… at this moment, I mean. I simply meant that we are both rather preoccupied at the moment, so to attempt a trip for leisure would prove a bit difficult.”

Kantera merely laughs, a gentle show of mirth comparable to the warmth that radiates from the cup in his hands. “I only jest. It’s understandable, but a pleasant fancy. I hope we’d be one day able to consider it more than a pipe dream.”

He gives a sagely nod before continuing. “I should also confess I oft entertain the idea of having you as a husband. Why, I’d be able to eat your cooking every day.”

“That’s not healthy. You’d be comatose more often than you already are.” Dogma replies flatly. Still, Kantera doesn’t miss the way his frown lessens at the compliment.

“Yes, I suppose so.” A diet of breads and pasta had the ability to accomplish such a feat, even if they were immensely delicious. Kantera hums. “But this is nice as well. It’s best to enjoy things slowly.”

“I believe our definitions of ‘slowly’ tend to differ greatly at times.” The priest points out, but his tone is lacking in its characteristic sternness, a hint of resignation tinting his words instead.  

“Ah, is that so? That may be because I’ll be around for quite some time. Another century, at the least.”

The statement causes Dogma to give him an odd look. “Is that another quality among the Draken?”

Ah. A slip of the tongue.

There’s a pause, one in which Kantera lowers his cup to tilt his head slightly in thought. It’s an elegant motion that exposes more of the delicate skin of his neck, allowing for a view of the curve of his collarbones. “Draken are known for their longevity, yes. Some live for ages, others have lifespans only a couple decades more than humans… but only time will tell where I lie.”

Dogma had asked the other a number of questions on Draken culture and physiology – the latter mostly to slake his own curiosity. Kantera found it endearing, returning each inquiry with a thorough answer. Yes, a tug on the horns will hurt if too much force is applied. No, he is not in possession of a tail, but there are some residual scales around his tailbone if you’re interested. He can’t fly with the meager appendages on his back, but the best place to offer a scratch is between his wings because it can be a bit difficult to reach at times.

But he never mentioned the Draken’s vitality, the potential to outlive humans by decades or centuries if given the chance. Hardiness from living in the mountains combined with a legendary lineage gave fruit to another blessing from their ancestors. Or curse, as some saw it. Either way, he never had any need to bring it up in conversation.

The priest makes a soft noise of acknowledgement, gaze settling into the tea cupped between his hands. “It’s strange to think you’d be walking this earth even after I’ve passed.” His expression is pensive, Kantera unable to see what else swims in his thoughts.

“Is it? I haven’t given it much thought.” An airy response, but Kantera truly did not consider the possibility of outliving the priest. Or rather, he avoided thinking about it.

This can be attributed to the fact that he did not think he’d have anyone to outlive. What sins he’s committed in the past are enough to condemn him for the remainder of his life. It was only appropriate cowardice would follow him to the ends of the earth – to live in solitude was fine with him.

Coldness befitting for a corpse was how he saw himself to be. That was the mantra that he held fast to until he settled in the nameless town; never before had he met a community so unabashedly concerned about a stranger. To receive vigorous acceptance when he had only just arrived was a shock enough to make him withdraw into the confines of his shop even more than he had.

He didn't intend to frequent the church; he attended mass out of sheer curiosity at first. Despite their differences in ideologies, Dogma was one he felt to be a person born of goodness. There was the issue of his unapproachable façade, but underneath was someone who possessed a strong will and caring nature. An unrivaled passion was present in each deliverance and tenderness in each gesture. He found himself watching closely; really, what wasn’t there to admire? It was only a matter of time before he became smitten with the priest.

There are times when he feels as if he doesn’t deserve what blessed life he lives, and there are other times where he feels he’s taking what he has for granted. This moment is a mixture of both.

Kantera realizes the atmosphere has been engulfed in a brittle silence, speaking quietly to not shatter it gracelessly. “I suppose it sounds a little lonely. I’d miss you.”

Dogma takes a breath to digest the words, features hardening in concentration once more. “Ah… forgive me. I didn’t mean to wish such thoughts unto you.”

The doctor shakes his head, a wan smile touching his lips. “No, that’s quite alright. As you’ve said before, prudence is a virtue. It’s best to remember where we are in the scheme of things.”

Dogma seems at a loss at what to say, so Kantera gently pries away one of his hands. Where Kantera’s hands are calloused from harvesting herbs, Dogma’s hands are soft, much softer than one would think from someone who wields a sword. He vaguely recalls someone once telling him that, in some cultures, a person’s palms could tell more about them than you could bear to know.

Kantera is not skilled in palmistry, but he does know this: Dogma’s palms are that of a gentle person’s. There are only budding callouses from the hilt of his sword, ones that Kantera has given him ointment to treat. There are also small scars from years of handling parchment and paper, a nearly imperceptible sign of unwavering devotion. And most notably, Dogma’s hands are warm. Kantera likes to think it a reflection of the priest’s kindness.

To see them grow cold in inevitable. He knows that. It’s all the more reason to etch that warmth into his memory with what time they have now, however fleeting it may be. He can feel the other’s gaze on him as he idly traces a thumb over back of his hand.

He could easily skirt over the matter, as he’s used to. Dogma doesn’t make a point to pry if Kantera chooses not to divulge, simply offering an ear should he need it. But this is something he must confront, so he swallows down what apprehension has begun to collect on his tongue like bitter medicine. They say the worse it tastes, the better it is.

There’s a moment where he can only register the thrumming of his own heart, and he decides to speak before he runs out of heartbeats. “…No matter how long I spend with you, I’ll cherish it deeply. That… I won’t forget.” Kantera brings the hand to his lips, brushing a light kiss against the fair skin. “I’ll ensure you won’t forget, either.”

At that, Dogma’s blush reappears, gaze struggling to meet Kantera’s own. “Must you be so charming?”

The doctor chuckles and places his hand back onto the table. “If you’ve been enraptured by my charm, then allow me to spend this post-tea doze on your shoulder.”

Dogma takes the opportunity to chide him. “Kantera, you’ll puncture my neck. The material of my robes is not as thick as Tabasa’s coat.”

“Ah, so you’ve noticed.” The guilty party doesn’t look as remorseful as he should.

“Of course. I’d rather you not sleep on him while I’m giving sermons. I’m sure he’d appreciate it as well.”

He can’t help that the combination of Dogma’s voice and Tabasa’s comfortable shoulder make for perfect napping conditions. “On your lap, then.”

Dogma relents with a soft sigh as Kantera settles closer. Restful sleep has never come easily to him, a concoction of herbs and tea usually required to quell his haunting. He lowers his head on the other’s lap, taking care not to scrape him with his horns. Kantera finally relaxes with a blissful noise, closing his eyes and letting himself enjoy the other’s presence. Dogma’s hand tentatively brushes a lock of hair away from his face.

“I still have to clean the church after this.” A hand absently threads through Kantera’s hair.

A drowsy murmur is all he can offer in return. “I know. I’ll just take a moment to rest my eyes.”

-

When Kantera wakes up, he finds he’s placed on his futon. The teacups and pot have been neatly cleaned and left to dry, the table straightened up. There may as well not have been a trace of his earlier rendezvous, save for a hastily written note placed on the table.

_I’ll be back tonight, if you’ll have me. Try not to sleep in excess._

Deliveryuu calls for him from the storefront, knowing Kantera’s sleeping patterns only too well. The doctor tucks the note into his sleeve and reassures Deliveryuu he’s awake before leaving the room, wearing a light smile all the while.

 


End file.
